


I reach, I reach out and touch

by black_wings



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Deserves Better, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Protective Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Better, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_wings/pseuds/black_wings
Summary: “There were, of course, exceptions. Billy could usually tell when Neil wasn’t having a good day. The older man started drinking as soon as he got home from work, and anything that left Billy’s mouth was taken the wrong way and meant he was asking for it.Other than those occasions though, it was fine. Everything was fine.And then, Steve fucking Harrington came and ruined “fine” for him.”Or, throughout his life, Billy Hargrove learned that touch could be painful and that most times he was better off without it. When he met Steve Harrington, Billy learned better.Written for the Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 12
Kudos: 143
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	I reach, I reach out and touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/gifts).



> Hi there =D
> 
> I tried to use most of the tags you gave me, I honestly wish I could've used them all!
> 
> It was my first time writing this pairing, but I had a blast. I just hope I did them justice and that you like it ^-^
> 
> Happy holidays!

The first time Billy remembered feeling comforted by another person's touch, he was around five and had just fallen to the ground and skinned his knee. His mother had picked him up from the ground and taken him inside the house. Billy remembered crying and hiding his face in his mom's soft, blonde hair. She had cleaned his wound, let him eat cookies and a sandwich for dinner, and put him to bed. She had kept her touch gentle and soothing, and it had remained that way as she brushed his hair back and kissed him goodnight.

* * *

It was only a few years later that Billy learned how much someone's touch could hurt and sting. He was eight years old and his mother had just passed away. He felt angry, betrayed by the world, which had stolen his mom from him much sooner than it was supposed to.

He had the vague idea of being in his room, sobbing his heart out when his father burst in.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Billy remembered the way his heartbeat had skyrocketed, confusion and what should have never been fear set in. "Boys don't cry, you hear me?"

And Billy just cried harder, “But– But mom–”

“Your mother,” his father interrupted his babbling with a slap. “Your mother was weak and selfish. She wasn't right in the head and let that get the better of herself. She brought this upon herself. If anything, you helped by always whining and wanting her attention. She was so focused on taking care of _you_ , she barely had time to take care of herself. It really is no surprise something like this happened.”

* * *

It was around the time Billy turned fifteen that he understood he wasn’t like all the other boys. By this age, all his classmates wanted to discuss were girl’s boobs and their ass.

It wasn’t that Billy didn’t find the topic interesting. He did. He truly did.

Only, not really. If anything, the matter was amusing to him. He didn’t understand what his friends were so crazy about, what was so great about it all that they couldn’t shut up about it.

Billy Hargrove didn’t get it at all, but it hadn’t really crossed his mind that _he_ was the one at fault until one of his classmates started shit with him.

"You think you're so awesome and above all of us, don't you, Hargrove? But you're just a little fag, who is worth nothing," spat the guy – Tyler, Billy thought.

The only thing that crossed Billy’s mind was that it would be better if his father heard he’d been in a fight than if he knew people were calling him _that_. The next second, his fist was flying and connecting with the guy’s face.

After it was all over, Billy wondered why he felt utterly defeated when he’d been the one to win the fight.

After that first fight, it was as if a dam broke loose and Billy had no problem with using his fists to make his points clear. No one dared mess with him from them on and Billy was proud of what he’d accomplished.

 _He was_.

He wasn’t, but Billy’s father almost was, and that would have to be enough for him.

Still, even if no one was stupid enough to call him a fag again, the remark stuck with Billy. The mere thought that the word also might’ve stayed in his classmates’ heads, filled him with a bone-deep panic.

The solution was evidently clear, though. Billy spent his whole weekend muttering over it.

When Monday came, he was ready and didn’t feel like throwing up, not one bit.

Billy strode through the high school doors, head held high, his eyes immediately zooming in on a girl from his class. She was always making eyes at him, so he figured what he was about to do would be fine by her.

He grabbed her arm and turned her towards his body. "'Morning, beautiful," was all Billy said, all the warning he gave her before his lips were crashing down on hers.

The whole ordeal was over fairly quick. Billy stepped back, threw a “See you around” over his shoulder, and headed to class.

It was safe to say any rumors about his sexuality died before they could even start.

* * *

Kissing had never really meant much to Billy. He'd kissed his fair share of girls at school and parties and, while it was fine, he didn't think it was anything special.

At least, that had been the case until he met Ben on the beach.

That Saturday had started like any other.

Ever since his father had started dating Susan, the woman and her daughter were basically living at his house. Billy honestly didn't know how to feel about it. In his heart, he couldn't understand how anyone could love someone like his father, how anyone could willingly bring their child to live with him.

Either way, since the two were staying with Billy and his father, he was forced to have lunch with them. His father was hell-bent on painting the picture of a happy family and Billy wasn’t going to ruin it for him. He wasn’t too keen on seeing the fallout if he did.

After lunch, though, he was free. After dropping Max at a friend’s house, he drove the Camaro down to the beach, planning on enjoying the California sun and the waves.

That's where he met Ben. The other boy was nineteen, three years older than Billy. He was tall, tan and sculpted, and Billy was in awe.

Ben was nice. He was funny, sweet and charming.

The afternoon flew by as they talked about shared interests and their hopes for the future.

Billy didn’t notice the hours passing. He didn’t remember he was supposed to pick up Max and take her home. There was nothing else on his mind, other than Ben’s green eyes.

When a shadow fell over him, he thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t until his father’s hand fell on his shoulder and his angry eyes came into view that Billy felt the color draining from his face.

“Dad,–” he tried to stutter out.

“Billy, you want to explain to me what you’re doing? Your sister was worried sick. She waited for you and, when you didn’t come, called home, asking for her mother to pick her up,” his father raged.

"How– How did you know where to find me?" It was perhaps not the smartest question to ask, but Billy was scared and, in his panic-riddled mind, nothing else occurred to him.

His father laughed, low and mean. “Max said you came to the beach. Now, tell me, _boy_ , what was so interesting about being here that made you forget your sister?”

Billy bristled under the veiled accusation. “She’s not my fucking sister.”

He didn’t see the slap coming. He was so used to his father saving the beatings for when they were behind closed doors, that he never expected him to hit Billy out in plain sight.

At this, Ben got up and started yelling, “What the hell, man? He was just late, chill out.”

His father didn’t respond well to the remark, advancing on Ben and grabbing him by the throat. “You listen to me, _fag_ , I won’t let you contaminate my son. You better leave now, before I do something that will make you regret staying.”

Ben paled, gaze moving between Billy and his father.

As soon as Billy nodded at him to go, Ben ran, his apologetic eyes only looking behind once.

As his father turned and plummeted him into the ground, Billy’s only thought was that he should’ve kissed Ben while he’d had the chance. If he was going to get caught like he was, he should’ve at least been able to keep a memory like that for himself.

Billy didn’t recall passing out. The only memory he had was of waking up, confused as to where he was, with the nauseating, sterile smell of a hospital invading his senses.

His heartbeat skyrocketed when he saw his father sitting next to his bed.

“Billy, how are you feeling, son?”

His throat was too dry for Billy to respond, so he just closed his eyes.

“Do you remember what happened? I found you down by the beach, unconscious, beaten black and blue. Do you know who did it?”

Billy’s eyes watered and he refused to open them and give his father the satisfaction of seeing tears fall.

“Don’t worry. Something like this won’t happen again. We’re moving. Susan agreed. California is far too dangerous to raise another child. We’re already looking for a new place in Hawkins, Indiana. It’s a small town, I’ll teach you all about respect and responsibility there. It seems you’re forgetting all the lessons I tried to pass on, but we’ll work on that. Don’t worry now, just rest, Billy.”

And, really, what else could he do? Billy just closed his eyes and wished there was a possibility he could not wake up.

* * *

Hawkins was, predictably, everything Billy expected it to be.

It was small, boring, cold and everyone knew everybody.

Billy understood why his father had chosen a place like this one. The houses were cheap, and it was much easier to keep tabs on Billy.

In such a small town, people were close-minded, and gossip spread like wildfire. Billy would have to keep in line and watch himself. He figured the best way to do that was to build a reputation.

People saw him as a troublemaker, a boy who couldn't settle down, with too many hard edges and no soft spots.

Billy played up that image. He painted himself as the Californian boy, who didn’t give two shits about anyone. He was an asshole who partied until morning, kissed a new girl each week, and got into fights whenever he pleased.

It was great. As long as he kept his grades up, his father mostly didn’t bother him.

There were, of course, exceptions. Billy could usually tell when Neil wasn’t having a good day. The older man started drinking as soon as he got home from work, and anything that left Billy’s mouth was taken the wrong way and meant he was asking for it.

Other than those occasions though, it was fine. Everything was fine.

And then, Steve fucking Harrington came and ruined “fine” for him.

* * *

The first time Billy met Steve was during the basketball game, in school. Billy made the team and Steve was their captain.

Billy spent the entire game trying to rile the other boy up, throwing observations around like, “Plant your feet, pretty boy”. It was almost annoying how Steve only responded by laughing, his doe brown eyes crinkling in amusement.

He’d heard the stories, of course. Of how, before Nancy Wheeler dumped him for the school creep, King Steve used to rule the school, and how he held the highest keg score before Billy beat it.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

* * *

All of a sudden, it was as if Steve was haunting him. As if Billy didn't see enough of him at the school, the other boy started appearing everywhere Billy went. He was at the store when Billy was buying groceries and at the arcade with Max’s nerdy friends when Billy was there picking her up.

It was actually when he was dropping off Max that Steve came to him.

Steve leaned on the Camaro, “Hargrove, how you doin’?”

Billy wondered what the other wanted and couldn't help but frown. He immediately regretted it though, as with the movement, his face hurt since his father had knocked him around earlier. "Just great, Harrington. Anything I can help you with?"

Steve scratched his neck. “Not really. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Max told Dustin, who obviously told me, that your dad is a bit of an asshole.” He stopped then, taking a breath as his eyes roamed over Billy’s face, gingerly eyeing the fresh bruises. “I get that we don’t know each other that well, but if you ever need a place to spend the night or something like that, just let me know.”

Billy openly stared, thoroughly dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe the nerve. “Listen closely, Harrington, I’m not someone you should pity, and I sure as fuck don’t need your help. I don’t know what kind of stories you made up in your mind, but you better keep you little theories to yourself. You think I need some babysitter, like those nerds you drive around all the time? I fucking don’t. I can take damn care of myself. Fuck you.”

Sneer in place, Billy put the car in gear and drove away, leaving Steve in the parking lot, apologizing and yelling at him to stay.

An hour of aimlessly driving around later, Billy was back at the arcade.

Annoyingly, the Beamer was still parked there. Billy didn’t think Steve would have the balls to approach him again, but the fucker proved him wrong by knocking on his window.

The blond took a deep breath, struggling to calm his already frayed nerves. He opened the glass without speaking or looking at the other's way.

"I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to make assumptions or to stick my nose where it clearly doesn't belong. However, my offer still stands. And, I mean, if you wanted you could come over– like tomorrow or something– and we could hang out."

Billy dubiously looked at him. “Hang out?”

Steve furiously nodded. “Yes, yeah. Hang out. My parents are never home. It’d be cool.”

Billy’s mouth dropped, “Cool?”

The blond was just going to ignore the way Steve’s neck reddened at that. “Yes. I think we’d actually get along if we gave it a shot.”

Billy’s brain was having a bit of a hard time processing the sentence and the implications it could bring. That’s the only reason he nodded and agreed with Steve’s monumentally stupid idea. “Okay, sure. Tomorrow at nine? Just send me the address, pretty boy.”

Steve’s answering smile made Billy forget why he should definitely be worried about the new developments.

The next moment, Max was getting into his car and waving goodbye to her friends.

As Billy drove home, he thought about Steve and about how he was the first person in Hawkins to genuinely speak to him. Everyone else wanted him at their parties or was just looking for the benefits that his “friendship” could bring them. Steve didn't seem to be asking for anything other than the company.

Maybe that was all Billy was entitled to ask for, all he had a right to. Someone who could stand to be in the same room as him for longer than five minutes and kind of enjoy it. And if it meant he wouldn’t be so alone, was it really such a bad thing to want?

* * *

The next day, nine o’clock found Billy in the nearest liquor store. He’d gotten into it with his father before leaving home. It was a bad one, this time. His ribs and back ached like hell, and he was pretty sure there would be a black eye to go along with his split lip.

There was no way he was going to show up on Steve’s front porch looking like this. Instead, he decided on buying a bottle of something to drink and drown his sorrows with.

Billy drove his car to the quarry and parked. The alcohol didn’t leave him feeling better. He wished he could’ve gone to Steve’s and that he hadn’t just stood the other boy up. He was lucky if he ever spoke to him again, much less invite him over a second time.

As he drank the remains of the bottle, Billy wondered why his father had to ruin every good thing in his life.

* * *

Billy woke up to the sound of sirens and knocking on his window. He watched, through bleary eyes, as a cop asked him to open his door.

Billy did, not feeling like he had much of a choice.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to bring you down to the station. You can’t be parked here, at this time of the night, and I’m pretty positive you’re not old enough to be drinking.”

The blond tried to close the door and get further into the car. “It’s fine, officer. No need to arrest me, I’ll just go.”

The man grabbed his wrist when Billy tried closing his door. “Kid, you’re not driving anywhere. Not in your condition. We’ll go down to the precinct, call your parents to let them know you're fine and they'll come to get you."

That was the moment true panic hit Billy, the alcohol in his system probably doing nothing to help the situation. "No! No. Please– Please, just let me go–"

The officer’s eyes hardened, and he hauled Billy out of the car. “C’mon, kid, don’t make this harder on yourself.”

He was dragged to the police vehicle and forced into the backseat. Later, when he was sober, he mused that it must have been out of pure generosity that the officer didn’t handcuff him.

At the station, Billy was put in a holding cell and told to calm down while they called his parents.

This, obviously, did nothing to calm his nerves. He sat on the floor, his head between his knees, and tried not to think about how his father would react when he got the call.

It could've been hours later, but it was only half an hour at most when the door opened.

Steve’s voice was the last thing he expected to hear. “Hey, Billy. You okay?”

Billy’s eyes filled with tears he refused to let fall, and he returned his gaze to the ground.

Steve kneeled so that they were at the same level. "I'm sorry, that was a pretty dumb question, I guess." When Billy still didn't answer, the taller boy continued, "Hopper called me, I hope you don't mind. I was at his house, during the afternoon and mentioned that you'd be coming over to mine after dinner. When he saw them bringing you in, he wanted to know what had happened to make you leave and get drunk by yourself."

After a few seconds of silence, Steve carried on. "I told him you hadn't shown and asked him not to call anyone else. I guess being friends with the sheriff has its perks because he agreed on the condition that I came and picked you up."

At that, Billy finally looked up. “What– You did what?”

“I thought it’d be better like this. You can come to my place and sleep it off if you want.”

Billy barely let the other boy finish. “Yes. Harrington, is that– I mean, you don’t mind?”

Steve laughed softly and shook his head. “Not at all. And you know you can call me Steve, right?”

Billy swallowed. “Steve– That’s– Thank you. Really.”

Steve smiled, this time bashful. “It's not a big deal. I'm just going to let Hopper know so that we can get out of here.”

* * *

The drive to Steve’s place passed in a flash. Inside, Steve guided Billy to one of the guest rooms, and put a bottle of water and some aspirin on the bedside table.

"Just wait for a second, I'm gonna grab you some comfortable clothes for you to sleep in."

In no time, Steve was back with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Here, you’ll feel better after changing. We'll take care of your face in the morning. Unless you want me to clean you up now before you go to bed?”

“Harrington– You don’t need this shit in your life. Trust me, hanging with me will bring you nothing but problems. You’re better off without, Steve.”

Billy heard rather than saw Steve move closer and sit on the bed next to him. He felt an arm dropping around his shoulders and drawing him against the other’s chest. “Why don’t you let me decide about that, Billy? Believe me, I’ve dealt with much worse than this. Most nights, I can’t even sleep with my lights out. I want to be here for you, and if you come with baggage, I want to deal with that as well.”

Billy could only nod and try to breathe. He figured that, when Steve eventually got tired of him and left, he could at least remember this feeling and it’d almost be worth it.

* * *

From that night forward, Billy and Steve became pretty much attached at the hip. It was rare that one boy was seen far from the other.

People at school noticed, of course, but one look at Billy’s murderous expression kept their mouths shut.

Things were great. Billy had never been happier, never felt safer than he did now that he had Steve to lean on.

He was absolutely terrified of doing something that might screw their friendship up.

* * *

It all came to a head when his birthday rolled around.

Since his mom passed away, his birthday wasn't a date his father felt needed to be celebrated. Billy was so used to it, it didn't occur to him that, this year, with Steve as his friend, it might be any different.

Anyway, that was the excuse Billy would use if anybody asked him to explain how the situation escalated so quickly.

Billy didn’t suspect anything when Steve texted him to come over, in the middle of the afternoon.

It was a Sunday, which meant there were no classes, and it wasn’t as if either of them would be busy or like it was unusual for both of them.

When Billy arrived at Steve’s house though, the other boy met him at the door, a freshly baked cake in his hands. He couldn’t contain his excitement as he shouted, “Happy birthday, Billy!”

Steve even made an aborted move, as if he wanted to hug him only to realize he couldn’t with the cake in his hands.

Meanwhile, Billy was just staring, completely shell-shocked. “What the hell?”

Steve had the nerve to openly laugh in his face, and even goaded, “C’mon, asshole, let’s put this in the kitchen.”

They went in, Billy still trying to process the fact that Steve fucking Harrington had baked him a birthday cake. Billy was aware that the other boy knew how to cook. With his parents away so often, he’d had to learn, unless he wanted to live off take-out. Still, the idea that Steve had bothered to cook _for him_ was a bit difficult to conceive.

“You shouldn’t have bothered, Steve. Really, there was no need.”

“Of course, there was. It’s your fucking birthday, Billy. I’d be damned if we didn’t celebrate,” Steve spoke as if the mere idea offended him. “I even thought of inviting your sister, but she’d probably bring her whole squad, and I figured you’d prefer a quiet gathering.”

Billy blinked. “I do. Thank you.”

Steve nodded, apparently satisfied with himself. He turned around and grabbed a small bag from the counter. Then, as if it was nothing, he extended it in Billy’s direction, “Here’s your gift. It’s nothing special, but I hope you like it.”

Billy forced his frozen body into motion, not saying anything that might disrupt the moment.

Inside the bag, there was a small box which, in turn, contained an earring. It was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. It was a small feather littered in well-placed tiny crystals. Minimalistic, just what Billy himself would have picked if he’d seen it at a store.

The blond’s eyes welled up and, this time around, there was no stopping the tears that came unbidden.

Steve immediately made a soft noise while moving towards him and gathering him in his arms.

Billy couldn’t suppress the flinch at the first contact, not used to his crying being well received. “I’m sorry.”

Steve just shushed him. “You have nothing to apologize for, Billy. If anything, I should be sorry. I didn’t think–”

“What?” Billy couldn’t help but feel outraged. “Don’t you ever dare apologize to me again, jackass. You baked me a fucking cake and got me a gift, which is fucking beautiful, by the way. You take more care of me than anyone has in the last couple of years. So, don’t you dare apologize for being the best friend I could have ever wished for. You make my life so much better, Steve, you have no idea.”

Billy didn’t notice his body moving of its own accord until his lips connected with Steve’s. His eyes fell closed and his hand gently grasped Steve’s face.

Steve’s surprised gasp felt like being doused in cold water though, bringing him right back to reality.

Billy instantly scrambled back, hands held protectively and passively in front of him. “Steve–” his voice shook, and he couldn’t make it better. “Steve, I’m sorry. Please. I– I wasn’t thinking clearly, I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He waited, with bated breath, for Steve’s reaction. He was expecting something like a laugh, but it didn’t mean it hurt him any less when he heard it leave Steve’s mouth.

Billy's face must have crumbled then because Steve softly advanced towards him, his expression immediately sobering up. "Hey no, Billy. It's not like that. I swear I wasn't laughing at you. It's just– I've wanted to kiss you for so long, it's ridiculous."

"You– You have?" Billy's demeanor suddenly changed, a bit of his fire coming back. "Don't you dare mess with me, Harrington. Don't say shit like that if you don't mean it if you don't want me."

Steve smiled, gently like he always was. “I’m not playing around, Billy. I wouldn’t do that. I honestly, genuinely _like_ _you_. I mean, how could I not? You’re like a force of nature. If you want something, nothing can stop you from getting it. You’re stubborn and so, so strong. You amaze me. You’ve been hurt so many times, and you still manage to be kind and soft. _How could I not_? You’re perfect.”

“You’re delirious,” Billy countered, even though, just for a second, he actually believed it.

Steve moved, then, his arms encircling Billy’s body. At this point, the blond was shaking, his whole skin vibrating and hands trembling against Steve’s chest.

“Steve,” he breathed into the taller boy’s lips, just before they connected with his own again.

They kissed softly, each basking in the other’s presence and their new-found relationship.

When they broke off, Billy nuzzled against Steve’s face. “You mind if we take a nap, pretty boy? I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I could really use some rest after all the stressing I did just now.”

Billy tried to play it down, forcing a small laugh, but Steve was instantly looking worried and guilty. “Of course. Let’s just lie down in my room. I’m going to cuddle you to death.” He emphasized his point by squeezing Billy.

For once, the idea of lying in bed with his boyfriend didn’t terrify him. Billy knew Steve could keep him safe and wouldn’t let anything happen to him. For the first time in forever, he had someone, who understood him and appreciated him, watching his back. A partner, companion, friend and lover all rolled into one. And really, what else could Billy wish for?


End file.
